


moonlight sonata

by cecespuffs



Category: Lab Rats (TV 2012), Lab Rats: Elite Force (TV), Mighty Med
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Chase Davenport, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Self-Indulgent, Short & Sweet, soft hours basically !
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecespuffs/pseuds/cecespuffs
Summary: Chase, blighted by insomnia, consoles a troubled Iris.
Relationships: Chase Davenport/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	moonlight sonata

Harboring acute awareness, the small digital clock on the kitchen counter has long lost its purpose as Chase mindlessly sips away at the cup of black tea in his hands. His eyes are sunken, dark, and lifelessly opaque-- only half-regarding the sullen environment around him as he stares blankly at the moonlit terrace ahead. Meaningless thoughts come and go, forgotten in the haze; formulas of vague origin filling every crevice of his brain until all, inevitably, succumb to static. A unique breed of white noise, pure and condensed, weighing him down with impossible burden.

This habitual sleeplessness, much to his chagrin, had flawlessly integrated into the mission leader’s internal systems; the bitterness of his tea being the only thing keeping him at bay, as ironic a notion as that may be. A distant, definitely-bionic part of him knows this is an unhealthy practice, that the average teenager should receive approximately eight-to-ten hours of sleep for optimal performance-- and yet, it’s his own mind that impedes his progress, whirring and whirring and whirring away at completely, utterly, and absolutely _nothing_. The more eccentric parts of his mind twist and turn and loop in circles, recycling the same miscellaneous analytics that had robbed him from peace all nights prior-- and to contend with this massive hindrance, he’s learned to relinquish his bearings and express his discontent with an infallible expression. Blank and unreadable.

In the midst of his grievances, he almost misses the figure in the stairway.

Soft creaking of wood reverbs with a gunshot’s decibels, and Chase stiffens instantly. His body goes rigid with a sharpened guard, hazel hues casting a wary glower at the phantom-like shape at the bottom of the stairwell. His mouth opens to call out a warning, the base of his Laser Bo already beginning to materialize in a hidden palm behind his back-- only for his paranoia to dissolve completely as the figure creeps into focus.

“..Iris?” Her image is hard to make out, but Chase can faintly decipher the vague outline of his girlfriend. Unmistakeable curls frame her dark face as she inches closer, dim glimpses of a small blanket covering her body, the excess fabric dragging across the floor behind her.

She’s silent. Her glassy gaze is shifted to the side, vacant of emotion-- and it takes Chase a minute to realize the damp, shimmering moisture streaming down her cheeks. As she moves, her red, puffy eyes glint in the moonlight, painting a vivid picture that Chase only now grasps. The revelation clicks-- and sympathy blossoms, his features contorting to match the undertones of his distraught partner.

“Nightmare?” He solemnly infers, already having risen to his feet. His concern only deepens when Iris answers with a hollow nod, and he closes his eyes in silent empathy.

He waits for her to draw near, and once she does, he carefully wraps his arms around her shaky, blanketed frame. He calculates every movement with mindful precision, subtly letting her know that his intentions are not forceful, insidious, or derived from even the slightest malice-- and it works. She crumbles in his arms the moment they make contact, her expression twisting in a mixture of fear and distress as she mumbles something incohesive, broken by muffled sobs. Chase only places his chin on the top of her head-- and lifts it just moments after to plant a soft kiss on her temple, hoping to sway her anxieties even briefly. He rocks her slowly, gently, and without authority, allowing the silence to linger for however long the other desired.

Iris makes full use of this privilege, focusing on otherwise trivial things in attempts to gather her bearings; she zeroes in on the consistent rhythm of Chase’s breathing to steady her own, pulsing beats-- pinpoints his embrace to find leverage in the present. Once the haze begins to dwindle, she places a tentative nuzzle into his neck, treating herself to more of his consoling warmth. “You weren’t in your capsule,” She says, suddenly meek. Her voice slightly muted in the other’s hold, but the tone is disparaging; fearful. Chase feels a disturbance in his heart-- but says nothing. “I had another one-- p.. panic attack. Woke up with it. I tried to do what you said, to come find you the next time it happened, but your capsule, it.. It was empty. I got scared-- I thought you.. left.. I thought--”

“Shh, hey,” The mission leader simply brings a hand to her hair. Intertwining his fingers with frizzy locks, he quells her tension with tender, rhythmic strokes. “I’m right here, I. I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes some time, but after a surplus of forehead kisses and soothing words, Chase eventually feels the heroine settle in his arms-- a subtle act, but it’s true and genuine. She sets free a sharp exhale, even letting her body sway in sync with Chase’s with an almost airy bounce-- and when she pulls back, expression a weary content, ebony eyes meet a heavenly smile that strikes her heart with a familiar flutter.

She floats there for a time, suspended in the moment-- then seals the gap once more, resting her head against the center of his chest, listening passively to his heartbeat. “I want to stay here,” She whispers, poking a finger from her coverings to trace soft circles on his flannel. “With you. If, um.. that’s okay, obviously. I mean, it’s  _ way  _ past late, and your bionics..”

“ _ Irey, _ ” The endearing nickname seals her fate with a charming laugh, music pristine and pure; tints of the softest pinks color her cheeks, and she feels light. “Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay. Besides,”

He halts, then. Draws his lips closer to whisper into her curls. “I think I need this, too.”

  
  
  


* * *

Repose. 

It’s serenity in its lightest colors, angelic rays descended from a higher plane-- and the moon seems to rejoice, offering the prettiest of beams to shine dimly on its subjects. A veil of calm rules over this kingdom of stillness, and there, on the couch, under the blanket-- are this moment’s populace, fingers entwined and frames embraced. They’ve resumed places similar to before, with Chase’s head resting atop Iris’s while Iris had curled in on his chest, close to his heart. A cloudy undertone is present in both of their visages, as though entranced by some unseen spell.

With a silence so lulling, even Chase’s prevalent insomnia begins to wane. But just as his eyes close, just as he starts to nod off-- a small shuffle in his arms. The tip of a nose, grazing his neck. Then a quiet, quiet whisper, one that his bionic hearing almost doesn’t pick up.

“I love you,” A gentle song in the breeze, yet roused an incredible reaction that shatters his clockwork--  _ warmth,  _ raw and unbridled, blooming from his middle with an enthralling brew. “I love you so much.”

Emotions of all variants sway him with sensation, creeping up his spine to spread to the rest of him; and the tenderness, god, the  _ tenderness  _ in her tone-- it’s like a slit of sunlight slicing through the clouds, a wishful message of hope that fills him with a kind of euphoria only found in his dreams. He has to remind himself that  _ this is real, _ that he has a girlfriend who’s feelings are not a myth-- that she harbors no ulterior motives. That she truly, truly  _ loves him  _ with all of her heart and more, that she would be with him until her last days.

And,  _ god,  _ does he feel the same way.

His answer is immediate; vulnerable. “I love you too.”

And as the sky pinkens, signifying the night’s ending-- sleep, Chase finds, had never come so easily.


End file.
